


The Last Days of August

by gazeboplacebo



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gazeboplacebo/pseuds/gazeboplacebo
Summary: “Richie, honey, what’s wrong?” Maggie Tozier had asked, worry visible upon her face.Richie gave a start at this, looking up from the plate of baked salmon that he had been poking and prodding at, and for the first time in quite a long time, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier found himself at a loss for words.There was nothing wrong, per se, it was just that things… didn’t feel quite right.Based on the timeline and events in the 2017 adaptation. This story follows Richie and Eddie as they recover from their encounter with Pennywise in the house on Neibolt Street, and the events leading up to their confrontation with Pennywise in September.





	1. What's Wrong, Richie?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my very very first fanfiction ever. All your comments are appreciated, and I would really love to receive some constructive feedback on my writing style, and also maybe some ideas for how you might want the story to flow. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it :)  
> Also, my schedule is kinda tight lately, so if you guys want more chapters, be sure to tell me in the comments so that I can update this asap.

“Richie, honey, what’s wrong?” Maggie Tozier had asked, worry visible upon her face.

Richie gave a start at this, looking up from the plate of baked salmon that he had been poking and prodding at, and for the first time in quite a long time, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier found himself at a loss for words.

There was nothing _wrong_ , per se, it was just that things… didn’t feel quite right.

Though it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had just been hours since Richie and his gang of Losers had been in the house on Neibolt Street, that _godforsaken place,_ the place where he had seen that poster, the one with his name, age, and face on it.

And Richie had panicked then; he could vaguely remember Bill grasping at his shoulders, concerned, and asking him _what’s wrong_. He had tried to use his newly acquired Irish Cop voice, the one he had learnt to default to when trying to calm himself, but his Voice had failed him. What had come out of his mouth instead was a shriek, bordering on hysteria. It had seemed to him that he was hearing his own voice through a thick pane of glass. _“It says I’m missing Bill! Am I going to go missing, Bill?”_. The voice had been his, alright, but the words seemed to hold no meaning; he was detached from them somehow.

And then, Eddie had gotten his arm broken, Ben had his stomach split open, and Beverly had driven a rod through that motherfucking clown’s head. They had barely escaped, it had been a close thing; if not for the fact that Bev showed up in time, they could all have perished there, they could have _floated_ (Richie shuddered at the thought) with the clown.

But Bill had refused to let it go. He wanted to find Georgie and help Betty and all the other lost kids, but Richie wasn’t in for it. He had lost his temper, and uttered that Georgie was dead, not caring that Bill was hurt by it. He had received a punch in the face in return.

And now here he sat, in this nice dining room, in this nice house on the cul de sac, with this delicious plate of salmon before him. So, nothing was _wrong_ , not really.

It’s just that everytime he blinks, breathes, and takes a bite of his food, he can only think of that house on Neibolt Street, and the poster with his face on it. He can only hear Bev’s words playing over in his mind, about how they were the only ones who could do something about IT.

He realised now what had felt _not right_. He was scared. It was a plain, unadulterated fear, the childish fear one might feel when terrorised by an evil clown who enjoyed feasting on children. _Oh yes Richie the clown will git you oh yes he’ll have Ben for dinner and then maybe you for dessert._

And he had laughed then, at this thought, even though he really didn’t find the situation funny. He laughed and laughed and laughed, until he began to cry.

Through his blurred eyes he could see his parents exchange a visible look of alarm. Wentworth Tozier slowly extended an arm to his son, whom he was so used to seeing Getting Off a Good One, and asked in his quiet and mellow voice, “Look at me, son, you know you can talk to us, right?”

And just like that, Richie had slipped again, stepped on a mental banana peel (hmm) and slipped, right down into his deeper, more instinctive mind, where his more secretive thoughts resided.

 _Look at me, Eddie, look at me, don’t look at the clown!_ Richie didn’t know where he got his inspiration from, but at that moment, with the clown advancing on them, with that stake poking garishly out of the side of his head, Richie had felt this instinctive need to protect Eddie, _his_ _Eds,_ from danger. He had been ascaired, alright, but he thought that Eddie needed him more.

It had pained him, so, so much to see his arm, bent at an awkward an impossible angle. It was the same arm that, on certain days when they went and fooled about in the Barrens, Richie felt like caressing and feeling the smoothness of…

The teasing, joking front that he always put on in front of his Eds had fallen away, revealing his deep concern for his best friend, the friend that he ate, swam, and spat loogies with. It was perfectly normal and platonic for him to feel this deep concern for his best friend, right?

But he knew that wasn’t quite it. If say, _Bill,_ had been the one on the floor, writing and clutching at his broken arm, Richie would not be overly concerned. Bill was the strong one, their natural leader, the one he looked up to… at least until he had insisted that they returned to that house once more.

Besides, he had never felt the need to just sit close to Bill, or any of the other Losers for that matter. It had always been Eddie’s light brown locks he felt the need to sniff at, always Eddie’s black eyes that he felt the need to stare into, and always Eddie’s array of pink shirts that he enjoyed looking at.

And then just like that, ( _pip pip and tally ho),_ he was back. Without realising it, he had wrinkled his nose in confusion, and his cheeks had developed a light pink tinge.

All this had not been lost upon his mother, whose worry had caused her to subconsciously wrinkle her nose as well. She now reached up and felt Richie’s forehead.

“Are you feeling ok, honey?”

Overwhelmed with their concern, Richie had felt a surge of strong and simple love for his parents. Sure, they didn’t always… understand how to deal with him, but at least they always tried their best to provide for him, and to make him happy. He felt so _loved,_ and appreciated that he almost spilled the entire story: his fear, worries, and confusion to them. But no. They would never believe it, not in a million years. Hell, he’d probably be sent off to Juniper Hill and spend the rest of his days talking to a strange voice from the moon if they heard what had been plaguing his mind.

So instead, he just raised his hands, placating, and said in his British Guy voice (which sounded exactly like Richie except a pitch deeper) “Everything is magnificent, my deah folks! I was merely reminiscing a funny joke I heard today” _that’s it Richie, just hide it under a layer of humour, like you always do._

Satisfied with his response, they pursued the matter no further, only taking glances occasionally at him, and each time, Richie would grin sheepishly back, as if all was indeed magnificent in the world.

With his dinner gulped hastily down, he rushed off to his bedroom, saying he was going to bed down early, earning him a few quizzical looks from his parents. But they said nothing more as Richie headed upstairs.

Once there, he wasted no time in clambering out of the upstairs window, with a practiced hand. He knew that there was really only one person in the world he desperately needed to see and talk to right now. As he got onto his bicycle and pedalled off towards Eddie’s, his mind was at peace, for the first time that day.


	2. Take Your Meds, Eds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie did not need a shrink to tell him that there was something wrong with him. For a while now, he had been having more than platonic feelings for his childhood best friend. Something about the way he told his stupid ‘your mom’ jokes and about the way he would smile goofily at him when he gave a snark retort just drew him in. He, Eddie Kaspbrak, had romantic feelings for another boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know the development of the story has been rather slow, but I needed to capture both boy's struggle. Tomorrow we can begin with their healing process together *winks deviously*   
> Thank you to all those who left kudos on chapter one. It means a lot to me that my work is being appreciated. Stay awesome you lot! ^_^

“Eddie, don’t forget to take your medicine before bed!” Mrs Kaspbrak hollered, standing at the foot of the stairs, chest heaving at the effort.

“Okay Ma!” replied Eddie, not intending to touch the literal mountain of pills and suspensions set on his bedside table.

He had been sitting at the foot of his bed for quite a while now, exhausted from the events of the day. After breaking his arm falling through the floor, he had spent the entire afternoon in the emergency room, getting x-rayed and told off incessantly by his mother.

“I told you, Eddie, I told you! Those kids are no good! They make you do all these… things that make you get hurt and you are my Eddie Bear! I can’t see you get hurt!” she babbled.

At this, Eddie gave a small, almost inaudible sigh. He loved his ma, sure, but sometimes she was just too much to bear.

 “How’s your arm feeling, Eddie honey? That must have really hurt!”

Oh, it had hurt all right. It had hurt so bad that he had felt dizzy with pain, and had fainted to the floor. Yes, the _physical_ pain of his broken arm had been nothing short of torturous. But Eddie had been surprised to find how it hurt way less than he _imagined_.

All his life, his mother had drilled into him that he needed to stay away from danger at all costs: that meant no ball games, no running in the streams, and no _fun_ allowed at all. Eddie, true to his nature, had dutifully obeyed his mother. As a result, while other kids his age were full of bumps and scratches and maybe even fractures from their daily exploits, Eddie Kaspbrak had remained uninjured his whole life – at least up till his encounter with the leper back at the Neibolt House.

As he lain on the floor, Pennywise mere inches away from his face, drooling and grinning, he had felt absolute chilling fear, but beneath that, to a much smaller extent, there had been a thrill. The thrill of liberation, the thrill of defiance, and the thrill of finally, _finally,_ experiencing what it felt like to be injured, to be like the other kids.

Then, when the clown was advancing on all of them, Richie had been there, clutching at his face, insisting that he looked at him and not at Pennywise. The gentle tone of his voice had been so out of character that Eddie could not help but feel a little unsettled. But at the same time, he had felt this _happiness_ deep within him, and he had supposed that this was the proverbial _butterflies in your stomach_ sensation he had heard about…

As if reading his thoughts, Sonia now ranted on, her words sounding like a condemnation, “Especially that no-good Tozier kid. He smokes and swears and is always _filthy_ ”

“Ma, that’s really unfair for you to say. I like Richie, he…” Eddie began, but puttered to a halt, lost in thought.

_Why_ did he like Richie anyway? His mother had been right, for once. Richie was indeed all of those things, the things that Eddie absolutely hates. He should be glad that his mother was preventing him from seeing any of the other Losers.

And yet, he never fails to make him laugh, to make him happy. He’d always pretended to hate all the attention he received from Richie, but he secretly revelled in it. Of course, these sentiments were nothing but plain admiration for Richie’s finer qualities: his humor, his laughter, and his almost comically red lips. Eddie frowned a little at this thought. He would have to suppress his admiration for that last quality, yes.

Eddie did not need a shrink to tell him that there was something wrong with him. For a while now, he had been having more than platonic feelings for his childhood best friend. Something about the way he told his stupid ‘your mom’ jokes and about the way he would smile goofily at him when he gave a snark retort just drew him in. He, Eddie Kaspbrak, had romantic feelings for another boy.

Sonia had always been open about her position on homosexuality. Put simply, she despised gay people. She had been raised by a conservative family, and believed firmly in the god-written law that boys should marry girls. And so, that’s why, Eddie thought to himself, I must keep these thoughts private.

But, if he were to be truly honest with himself, he knew that that was not why he had not come out to his mother. He could deal with his mother’s disapproval. He would feel guilty, yes, but, at the same time, his broken arm served as a reminder that he could deal with his own problems. He was able to handle pain. No, his real worry is _Richie._

The Losers Gang all believed that Richie was attracted to girls. Hell, they couldn’t spend a minute in his company without hearing one or two crude jokes about screwing someone’s mother or sister. At the thought of this, Eddie could not help but grin a little, despite the hopelessness he felt inside – the hopelessness one might feel when their love was clearly unrequited.

_And yet, there had been times, hadn’t there? Where maybe Richie liked me back?_ Eddie thought to himself, now remembering how Richie always liked to sit beside him during lunch, how he liked to pinch his cheeks, exclaiming _cute, cute, CUTE_. In those instances, Eddie couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just _maybe,_ Richie liked him back a little.

He hated himself for thinking these senseless thoughts, for getting his own hopes up like some idiot. Richie liked girls, and he, Eddie, was not a girl, so that was that.

Besides, he should be concerned about bigger things. About how he, and Beverly and Ben and Stan and Mike and Bill and Richie had nearly _died_ that afternoon in that house. About how there was a killer clown stalking the streets, and about how he was so mad at Bill for letting this happen to them.

With his internal conflict thus somewhat resolved, Eddie got into bed, intending to get some sleep. He realised quickly that this was foolish. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see nothing but that clown inches from his face, slobbering all over his shirt followed by Richie’s face inches from his, dark eyes strangely concerned and comforting.

He gave up on attempting to sleep completely, and sat up on his bed, staring at the clock, watching the seconds tick slowly by.

And then, with a nary a build-up, Eddie found himself with his face buried in his hands, sobbing inconsolably. He had put on a brave front all day, allowing himself to be tucked wordlessly into his mother’s sedan, pretending he wasn’t shaking with fear from his encounter, _their_ encounter with IT.

He couldn’t pretend any longer; it was nearly 1 a.m. in the morning, way past the time where he needed to prove to anyone that he wasn’t weak – he was allowed to be himself, to show his fear now.

And he realised then, that he needed someone to talk to, someone who would know just what to say, someone who, at that moment, chose to climb through the open window.

“Eds? Are you okay?” the voice of a certain someone asked.

Wordlessly, Eddie moved into Richie’s outstretched arms. He knew he was not okay, that he needed to share what burdened his heart eventually. But for the moment, he allowed himself to stay right where he was, in the warm embrace of his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated. If you liked it, leave a kudos, and if you didn't feel free to tell me in the comments.


	3. We'll Go Mad Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie talk about their feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, it feels a little cliche and bland to me but oh well, let me know what you think  
> Tomorrow the Losers Club will meet up again, and that’ll probably be a better chapter

The pair now broke apart. They had held each other for so long that it had become awkward (at least that was what Eddie thought). Now, as they stood at arms-length from each other, Eddie found himself looking away from Richie’s face, down at the floor. His cheeks felt heated.

Richie either failed to notice this, or chose not to comment on it. Either way, the next thing he felt was himself being led gently to his four-poster bed. Eddie sat down on one corner of the bed, intending to give Richie more space to sit, but Richie had other ideas. He sat down firmly right beside Eddie, their calves brushing together as they swung them back and forth.

Eddie’s sobs became shallower now, as he took in the calming scent of Richie: the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his loud Hawaiian shirt, the smell of Tide detergent that his mother favoured, and the faintest smell of candy. It was hard to feel anything but at peace with his best friend by his side, gently holding on to his shoulders, like he was a fragile china doll at risk of falling apart.

They spent quite a bit of time just sitting like that, in a silence that would normally prove awkward for a pair of boys alone. But, in their case, the silence was companionable and strangely therapeutic. Without him realising it, Eddie’s sobbing had ceased entirely.

At this, Richie chose to broke the silence. He spoke in an intonation that suggested that for once, he had chosen his words with care.

“Eddie, I know you might not want to talk about how you’re feeling, but I know that if you do you will feel better”, Richie said, his voice barely a whisper.

Again, Eddie was struck by just how _un-Richie-like_ Richie was behaving. The Richie he knew was loud, and bordering on obnoxious. Hearing this quiet Richie was worrying, yet also nice for a change.

Eddie _wanted_ to talk, so badly. He wanted to tell Richie the most paramount issue on his mind – his feelings for him. But he couldn’t quite find the words to fully explain it, though. He was after all just a boy of thirteen, whose education had not prepared him well enough for him to be able to talk about deep matters plaguing his heart.

And so, Eddie talked about the next most troubling thing on his mind.

“It’s just that… we almost died, ‘chee. We went into that house and it was scary and disgusting and I thought I was going to die! I think I’m driving myself mad thinking of that place”, Eddie choked, his panic surging back into his mind. He tried veering himself away from those damaging thoughts, that horrible crippling sense of _fear_ , but it was no good.

He felt his throat constricting, and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. Richie’s face was swimming before him and he felt his vision narrowing. He groped in his fanny pack for his inhaler, only to realise that it was gone – he must have lost it in the Neibolt… _Oh my god,_ thought Eddie in his panicked state, _I’m going to die right here on my bed from an asthma attack._

Then, he felt something pop into his mouth, and heard a brief hiss as the inhaler puffed out his medicine. His breathing restored, he looked up gratefully at Richie, who said, “It’s okay Eds, I have your spare inhaler right here, don’t even worry about it.” He motioned at his back pocket.

Eddie could not help but feel touched that Richie, who was so apt at losing his own things, had bothered to carry around an inhaler just for him.

Now, Richie sat in deep thought, as if considering how to continue. Eddie wondered what he was thinking.

Richie sat there on the bed. Eddie was obviously frightened out of his goddamn mind. He found that he could relate to this. They had indeed nearly died; it was all that Richie could think about that whole afternoon. His mind raced, trying to think up of ways to cheer Eddie up, to tell him that everything would be alright.

He discovered that he was no good at this at all. Perhaps Big Bill would be more suited to be sitting here; he would know exactly what to say. After all, he was Big Bill, and Richie was just _Richie._

So instead, Richie had merely settled to say, “Eds, I’m afraid too, I’m scared out of my fucking mind. It was right up in your face… you know what, maybe I’m going mad too.”

His voice broke a little at this, and he found that he could not continue.

Lucky for him, Eddie had other thoughts on his mind. His lips opened ponderously _my god those lips_ Richie thought, and he asked, “Back then, why did you tell me to look at you?”

“I thought we were going to die,” Richie began, his heart in his throat, “I thought… if we were going to die, then I rather you look at me than at that scary ass clown motherfucker”

“And I know you’re afraid, because I am too. But you know what, that’s okay. If you are going mad, then I’ll go mad too, just for you. We’ll go mad together”

“Aw, ‘chee…” Eddie’s voice trailed off, a tiny smile curling up the side of his lips.

“You know, Eds, you’re so cute even when you cry,” Richie had blurted out, unable to stop himself from speaking his mind”

At this, Eddie blushed a furious tinge of mauve. He replied, voice trembling slightly, “Shut up, Richie, I’m not cute, and stop calling me Eds!”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t want to make Mrs K. jealous now, or else I wouldn’t be able to get into her pants tonight…”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie uttered, shock visible on his face. “You know that’s fucking disgusting!”

A moment of silence and then, both of them started to laugh. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so bad anymore. Here they were bantering, just like normal.

And then, Richie leaned in and kissed him.

He couldn’t help it. Eddie’s laughter had filled him from to the brim with a deep sense of satisfaction and happiness. If Eddie was happy, then so was he.

It had been a short kiss, a mere peck on Eddie’s red kissable lips, but it had been a _kiss_ nonetheless. For a brief moment Eddie was too stunned to say anything.

Richie thought to himself _you fucking idiot, what did you do that for, now he’s gonna be angry with you!_

And yet, there was a part of him that had hoped that Eddie would kiss him back, proclaiming his love for him. But it had been wishful thinking on his part.

He backed away now, and said, voice barely above a whisper, “Well, I should get going now.”

He turned tail, and was about to climb out the window when Eddie’s fingers, small but firm, curled around his wrist.

“No, Richie, stay with me, please” Eddie said.

Richie spun around, looking hopeful, but Eddie shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I’m… ready… I’m just so confused and… I just can't sleep alone” Eddie looked up at the taller boy, worry causing him to scrunch up his face.

Though feeling slightly deflated, Richie said, “It’s ok Eddie, I understand. I will stay with you as long as you need me.”

Richie started for the air mattress Eddie had set down for him, but Eddie said, in a small voice

“Richie?”

“Mhm?” the taller boy answered

“Will you come sleep here with me?” Eddie said, the blush back on his face.

“Are you sure? Because I’d could be sleeping with your mom right now, so…” Richie cracked, in spite of the nervousness he felt inside

The blush now gone from his face, Eddie said, “Just shut up about my mom and get in here, asshole.”

Richie eagerly climbed in at this. The bed was nice and warm. They turned so that they were facing each other, and now Richie chose not to say anything. He just wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, eyes taking in his tiny features.

Eddie hugged him back, just feeling the warmth of Richie’s body, wishing that he could stay there forever.

As the clock ticked past 2:15, they fell into a blissful sleep.

Of course, no one can say for certain what the contents of their dreams that night were.

But, if you’d been standing there, you’d have seen the smiles on both their faces.

And then, it would’ve been obvious to you.

What else could they have been dreaming of, but each other?  


	4. Together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie has another encounter with It. The Losers Club meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, you guys. The support I've received on the last chapter was amazing! It seems like you guys really like the Reddie portions!   
> So from now on I'll try and balance that with the plotline; I want this to run deeper than just reddie, and I kinda want to capture the growth of the Loser's Club as a whole.   
> As a result of that this chapter is twice as long as usual. Let me know in the comments how you feel about the length and content. Happy reading!

Eddie Kaspbrak woke up. He knew he should get up soon but for now he simply laid there, savouring his dreams last night, in which Richie had featured heavily.

There had been hugs and jokes, yes, but there had also been a kiss, which Eddie knew was

(impossible)

unlikely to have happened.

And yet, he realised that Richie’s warm sleeping form was right there next to him, under the blankets. True to his nature (Richie was a deep sleeper), he had not awoken yet, and instead was snoring away with oblivion.

His hair was an absolute dishevelled mess. A drying trail of drool led from the corner of his lips right down to his cheeks. It should’ve been disgusting to Eddie, to whom personal grooming was not only necessary, but also a way of life.

And yet, as he lay there, watching the first rays of sunlight streaming through the window and catching Richie Tozier’s face in its rosy glow, Eddie could not help but feel a deep adoration for the boy next to him.

Had there been a kiss? Probably not. Eddie was in a… _weird_ place emotionally last night. The kiss must have been nothing more than a coping mechanism conjured by his subconscious mind.

He would probably have gone on thinking of those thoughts, those insecurities that plagued young teenage boys in love, if not for the fact that he had suddenly felt this chill in the room.

It had happened as suddenly as the autumn transitions to winter every year in Derry. Not much of a gradual buildup at all. One moment it was all rain, the next there would be sleet. This chill _was like winter,_ like the cruellest and harshest winter that Derry could conjure. It was unsettling, especially since the sunlight had begun shining in through the window in earnest now. It brought with it no warm, none at all.

The small boy now began to sit up quickly in his bed, intending to look for the source of this unease.

And as soon as he did, he wished he didn’t.

There, attached to the back of his favourite chair (bought from Home Depot the summer before), was a crimson balloon, floating. Something about it was off… it was distinctly reminiscent of Pennywise the Clown.

Wordlessly, Eddie approached it. As he drew closer he began to make out some… words silk-printed into the side of the balloon. They were only 3 letters, but it somehow managed to creep him out even more than he already was. In a garish oversized font, were the letters ‘R & E’

Trance-like, Eddie extended a hand towards the floating oblong object. He had to verify that he was not seeing things.

Then, the balloon exploded with a bang.

Eddie screamed.

Strangely, Richie had not even stirred. It seemed that It only wanted _Eddie_ to see this balloon.

He now realised what had been so off about the balloon.

It had floated right in front of his open window, with the sunlight bouncing off of it. And yet, it had left no shadow, none at all.

He now realised that there was a square piece of paper on the chair. _It’s a polaroid,_ the part of Eddie’s mind not in full panic thought.

Once again outstretching his hand, this time with the caution one might adopt when approaching a firehose that may or may not be a snake, he picked it up.

What he saw damn near stopped his heart cold.

It was a polaroid of Richie and Eddie as they must have looked the previous night. At the bottom, in the little white space, someone

(Pennywise)

had written in red ink

(blood?)

‘Boys shouldn’t like boys, Eds, what would They think?’

He slid down the wall he had been leaning on. _It knew._ It knew about everything, as it always did. Suddenly it was as though the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn’t breathe again _another fucking asthma attack,_ Eddie thought savagely.

Grasping for his aspirator, he pulled the trigger and felt his throat open up a little.

Then, twice in two days, he began to cry again.

This time, Richie did wake up. He hurried over, asking worriedly,

“Eds? Why are you sitting there crying, what’s wrong?”

He sounded so earnest that Eddie told him about everything. Richie’s face was strangely vacant as Eddie filled him in. Then, when Eddie finished, his face contorted into a mask of rage.

“Eddie, fuck that clown,” Richie began. (not Eds, that had been on that polaroid)

“Richie.. I”, Eddie interrupted.

“No, Eddie listen to me. I’m serious. You shouldn’t be taking relationship advice from a fucking clown anyway. I mean, have you seen that ugly motherfucker? It’s been lonely for ages, it’s not like It would know anything relationship-wise.” Richie declared, voice determined.

“You don’t have to be worried either. If It dares come after you, I’ll rip It a new one. I’ll be here for you. And, I know we all had a fight yesterday, but if it comes down to it, all seven of us will fight It. We won’t let anything happen to you,” he finished, arms drawing Eddie in for a hug. Eddie leaned into it, closing his eyes and resting his head upon the taller boy’s shoulders, his own arms brushing at the dark curls that threatened to cover Richie’s eyes.

And then, he realised something.

“Oh my god, Richie, you cannot be here right now! My mother’s having her off day today! She’ll be absolutely bonkers if she finds out you spent the night,” Eddie exclaimed, horrified.

“But Eddie, you need me here, especially now. I mean, how can you resist these pearls?” Richie said, grinning widely.

Rolling his eyes, exasperated, Eddie fired back, “Richie, come on, you need to go now or I’ll be grounded for the rest of summer!”

Richie opened his mouth, probably to argue back, but was cut off by the shrill ring of the telephone.

“Shit!” Eddie exclaimed, running down the stairs to pick up the phone before it woke Sonia up.

After the events of the morning, even a simple thing like picking up a phone felt like he was about to touch battery acid.

But Mrs Kaspbrak had to remain asleep; he simply can’t risk her finding out what had transpired in the night. And so, mustering his courage, he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Eddie began, voice slightly wavering in trepidation.

He had half been expecting to hear Pennywise’s gravelly yet childlike voice on the other end, but was relieved to hear that it was Bill.

“E-e-eddie, I-I need to meet you guys. C-can you be at the B-barrens at 10am?” Bill stuttered, a little more than usual.

Eddie was still ticked off at Bill for his recklessness yesterday. But still, this was _Big Bill_. Their leader, their mastermind in crime, and a brotherly figure to all of them. Besides, hearing his prematurely deep voice even with its stutters, already did wonders to relax Eddie.

So Eddie replied, “Sure, Big Bill, I’ll bring Richie along with me as well.”

As he put the phone back on its cradle, Eddie suddenly remembered that he had been banned from seeing the rest of the Losers after yesterday.

Groaning inwardly, Eddie headed back up to his room. It can’t be helped. Usually, Eddie did his best to listen to the demands of Sonia Kaspbrak. It was better for his health and sanity that way.

However, this was a different situation altogether. Despite having sworn to himself never to think about Pennywise again, the events this morning proved that it wasn’t _up to him_. Eddie was merely a reluctant passenger on a sinking cruise liner. He was not in control of the situation at all. They could ignore Pennywise all they like, but It’ll always be after them. They’d all be picked off one by one, and maybe, one day, they’ll end up just like all the missing kids: rotting, covered in maggots in some ditch somewhere and forgotten by the rest of the town, like they never even existed.

Shuddering at this thought, Eddie opened the door, and told Richie what they were about to do.

Now, they were on the road, riding their bicycles down the frequently traversed route to the Barrens.

Richie had been taken aback by Eddie. He had sounded so tough and defiant when he told them that they’d be leaving the house through the window, and so assertive when he told Richie his role in this, which was to catch him as he came down the side of the house.

Richie had teasingly questioned Eddie what he’d do if his mother found out _that was a Good One,_ he thought.

He had been met with a glare so acrimonious that his goofy grin promptly slid off his face.

Richie had only seen this determination in Eddie twice. The first time was yesterday, when he had refused to cry when being led to Sonia’s car, arm broken.

Richie realised that something about Eddie had changed ever since he broke his arm. Now, it seemed, Eddie was

(liberated from Sonia)

strong.

It was nice to see this change in his best friend, the hypochondriac, the worrier, and the asthmatic.

Now, as they pedalled along, past the Aladdin Theatre making good time to the Barrens, Richie found himself staring at Eddie’s windswept hair, quite oblivious to his surroundings.

“WHOA WHOA HEY! STOP YOU DIPSHIT” Eddie hollered

Jarred by this, Richie looked up braking just in time to see a car blast by from the adjacent street.

“You idiot, you could have died. What the hell were you looking at?” Eddie demanded

Richie grinned, and replied in his Southern Belle voice (which was just Richie’s voice but Eddie-pitched), “My, I was just taken aback by your handsome features, sir. You look so charming. You have made me wild and impetuous”

He fluttered his eye lashes suggestively. At this, Eddie turned a delicate shade of pink.

In no time, they arrived, only to find that they were the last ones to be there.

The atmosphere in the group was abnormal. They all had roles to fill in the group. Usually, Bill would already be standing, suggesting activities they could all do to pass the time. Ben would be staring at Beverly, eyes dazed. Stan would be sitting primly, chatting with Mike about this and that. Beverly would be laughing, sometimes at Richie’s joke, sometimes just at the fact that the seven of them fitted _so well_ together that it seemed like it had been engineered by some higher being.

Now, there was none of the cheer and bliss in the atmosphere, no. It seemed like there were storm-clouds hanging over all of them, threatening to open up and douse them in thunder, lightning, and in rain.

Bill said, without his usual verve, “You’re here”

The others raised their hands in greeting, with no real enthusiasm.

Richie was dying inside. It pained him to see their group lose all of its natural ease, all of its charm and happiness.

So he fell back on old reliable – stupid humour

Richie mimed groping up and down his body, artificial expression of shock plastered on his face. In a falsely surprised tone, he said, “Oh, am I? I thought I was still at home!”

This earned an uneasy giggle or two. It seemed like the joke was about to fall flat, when Beverly laughed, a real laugh this time, full of mirth.

Gasping for breath, she said, “Well, looks like you’re still you, then.”

The tension in the atmosphere seemed to have dissipated somewhat. Bill looked at him, gratitude visible on his face. He was flattered that his joke had had that effect on the group, and more importantly how Bill looked at him in admiration. It came to him that Bill had been, for once, completely lost on how to cheer up the group. After all, what could he have done when it had been _him_ who had nearly gotten his best friends killed?

Presently, Bill got up to his feet. The gesture was one they were all familiar with. It was what Bill did when he had something important to say. Richie and Eddie found themselves seats, Richie upon the forest floor and Eddie on a tree stump.

The laugher had subsided completely now. All faces were turned up at Bill. They were waiting for what he had to say. This situation was such a common occurrence whenever they met that unknowingly, all of them relaxed to a certain degree, in spite of the pressing danger they all felt.

Clearing his throat, Bill begun, his voice perhaps a degree or two softer than usual.

“I called everyone here because I needed to apologise,” he said.

“I put everyone in danger yesterday. We could all have died, especially you, Eddie.” At this, he looked meaningfully at Eddie, seated quietly beside Richie. He tried to put a lot of the regret and sadness he felt into his eyes. Eddie, unsure how to respond, merely nodded at this.

“I was reckless. I should not have just… r-rushed off like that. It was s-sstupid,” Bill said, “I-I thought I could kill it, it was stupid of me.”

He was met with more silence. The rest of them hung on eagerly to his words, wanting to hear what he said next.

“I just wanted to avenge G-g-georgie. I really wanted to k-kill It, and I nearly got all of us k-killed… I…” Bill broke down at this, tears streaming freely and unabashedly down his cheeks.

The rest looked at each other, unsure. _Bill_ was crying. Their leader. It was just wrong to see Bill be so down and out, to be so _weak._

To everyone’s surprise, Eddie was the first one to get to his feet. He put a reassuring arm around Bill (quite the stretch because of the height difference), and spoke quietly,

“Bill, I don’t know if I can speak for the rest, but I don’t blame you, not in the slightest. I realised that It would have tried to hunt me down and kill me even if we hadn’t gone looking for It, at least, under your leadership, we managed to hurt it. I think that’s put it away for a while.”

Stan the Man was the next one up on his feet. Wrapping his arms around the both of them, he spoke, his fastidiousness audible even in his voice, “you know, Big Bill, Eddie is right. It wasn’t your fault, as much as I’d like it to be. But I think that clown has had my number ever since I saw the painting lady.”

Everyone was up on their feet now, wrapping their arms around Bill.

They murmured to Bill about how none of this was his fault, about how they would’ve acted the same way in that situation, and about how that clown was to blame for all of this, for all the missing kids.

For Betty Ripsom. For Georgie Denbrough. For Eddie Corcoran.

And as they stood there, all seven of them, they came to a silent agreement.

Whatever happened next, they would deal with it, together.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that!  
> My schedule is kinda tight lately, so if you guys want more chapters, be sure to tell me in the comments so that I can update this asap.


End file.
